


avenoir

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Infinity War spoilers, M/M, im coping (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 12:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: avenoir -n.the desire for memory to flow backward.





	avenoir

Bucky knows when the metal box is opened in front of him what he's going to see. He knows this isn't a gesture of – friendship, and not even one of kindness – not that the adults of Wakanda treated him with anything less than respect – maybe mild curiosity, and for some - a degree of fear, in the children, maybe but.  
He knows who he is. He doesn't blame the children for running.  
  
“Where's the fight,” he says more than asks, because he knows that's why they're here. _You're not a weapon_ , he hears in his head, but, well. Isn't he a damn good one?

 

“On its way,” T'challa responds.

 

–

 

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asks, breathless, wraps his arms around him. Bucky grins back, full and genuine, all teeth.  
  
“Not bad,” he smirks, “for the end of the world.” Looks behind Steve, sees Natasha and Sam, is glad that they're here. He's – missed them. Missed this. He loves Wakanda, he really does – never seen anything like it, mostly because there isn't anything like it - but he doesn't know anyone here, not really. He likes Shuri, though – she's smart and she's funny, and he _knows_ he's safe here but it still feels – foreign to be treated like a human by someone who's examined his brain, and not like he's a project, a test subject, something to take apart over and over till you can't tell what you started with.  
  
“I'll bet,” Steve laughs. “You-?” Steve raises his eyebrows, kind of, gestures to Bucky's arm with a nod of his head.  
  
“I'm fine,” Bucky tells him, purses his lips. “Honest.” And he is, mostly – he'd wanted to go back under until he was able to trust his own mind again, and he was awake now, wasn't he? The new arm, too – it fits better, he thinks, feels lighter. He feels lighter, too, feels like a weight is gone – feels less like he's missing himself.  
He deflects. “I like the beard.”  
  
“Yeah?” Steve laughs, runs his hand over it like he's only just become aware it's there. “We match.”  
  
“You wish,” Bucky elbows him, grinning. “Mine looks better.” Steve scoffs at the remark, but he doesn't argue with him.  
  
“We can argue about it after,” Steve says, _after_ wistfully _,_ like it's a promise, like this'll be quick and painless, like they'll be done in time for dinner. T'Challa is talking to Shuri now, Bucky notices out the corner of his eye. She'd been the one who'd helped scrub the mess in his brain out, as much as he understands – they're still working through it, but. He feels more him than he has in a long time, he thinks. He can't remember who he was, not really – knows that him is gone and buried in an empty grave, but. _He's_ here, the Bucky of now, and Steve still looks at him in a way that he _knows_ he felt before.  
  
“Hey,” Bucky sighs out, gripping Steve's arm and pulling him back towards him gently as he's turning to go join T'Challa's conversation, which a tall man with – red skin, okay – has joined in with. “I missed you.” It's been three years, hasn't it? He's been awake for – half of one, maybe.  
  
“Sap,” Steve laughs, turns back to face him. “I'll stay. After this. I'll stay.”  
  
“You will?” Bucky quirks a brow at him. “Retirement, Stevie? I never thought I'd see the day.”

 

“I'm in my nineties,” Steve reminds him, smiling in that way that make his eyes crinkle. “But no, not retirement. Just – we'll figure it out, okay? It's been – a long time, since we've had time, but. I'll figure it out.” He repeats, like it's a prayer – like he's fifteen again and kneeling in the snow, hands clasped.

  
“You spent most of your life unconscious, though.” Bucky chooses to comment on. _Luckier break than me_ , he thinks, but he'd rather it was him, he'd do it again, he'd walk barefoot through Hell for him.  
He knows Steve would do it for him, because godsdamn him, he already has.

 

Steve shrugs at this, reaches in to press their foreheads together. Breathes him in. Bucky missed him, misses him, aches for him – always, always, always. They stay like that for a few moments, and Bucky knows eyes are on them, but. It's the end of the world. _Let us have this.  
_

“No kiss?” Bucky asks, smiling, as Steve pulls away from him slowly.  
  
“I don't want it to feel like I'm saying goodbye,” Steve whispers, bears his heart. _Not again_ , goes unsaid between them, like the ghosts they cannot – will not - shake and the rifts between them that they cannot close, it hovers.  
  
“After, then,” Bucky says. A promise of things to come.  
  
_After_. _I'll still be here._

 

–

 

It doesn't, hurt, it just feels – almost like a full body electric shock, but softer, humming under his skin – not painful, just uncomfortable – he doesn't think anything is wrong at first. Doesn't realise until it begins to feel like he's coming undone, like he's losing his balance – and then he is losing it, tripping forward onto the ground. He hears his gun thud onto the ground, cold metal meeting earth and dirt and _life_ , and his is – slipping, he wants to make like a tree and root himself down here, Steve in front of him – he can't hear him on one side, his other ear filtering sound out like he's got a tin can cupped over it.

 

“Buck,” he sees Steve mouth, can't hear it, and – this is it. This is _it_.

 

 _No after. It's not fair. I can't-_  
  
“Steve,” Bucky says, or he thinks he does – wills his brain to say it – his vision is going. It's getting dark but it's not evening and he can't hear anything but he didn't feel an explosion that would knock his hearing out like this, but he says it again, “Steve?”  
He knows it makes it out of his mouth, that time, but if there is a response he's gone before it meets the wind.

 

Steve kneels over where he was, shaken and confused and _scared_ , reaches down to touch Bucky's gun lying in the dirt. It's warm.  
He takes it with him, because the universe didn't give him a body to bury this time, either.

 


End file.
